Uncle Jim set a Big Ben alarm clock down on one of the spool tables for me.

“I’ve set the clock for half-past three.  That will give you half an hour to make your hypothetical ship in ... you’ll have to jump up and stop the clock, anyhow.  It’ll keep on ringing till you do.”

* * * * *

My first morning on shipboard was spent scrubbing cabin floors, washing down the walls, washing dishes, waiting on the captain and mates’ mess ... the afternoon, polishing brass on the poop and officers’ bridge, under the supervision of Karl, the former cabin boy.

“Well, how do you like it?” asked the cook, as he stirred something in a pot, with a big wooden ladle.

“Fine! but when are we sailing?”

“In about three days we drop down to Bayonne for a cargo of White Rose oil and then we make a clean jump for Sydney, Australia.”

“Around Cape Horn?” I asked, stirred romantically at the thought.

“No.  Around the Cape of Good Hope.”

* * * * *

Early in the afternoon of the day before we left the dock, as I was polishing brass on deck, my father appeared before me, as abruptly as a spirit.

“Well, here he is, as big as life!”

“Hello, Pop!”

I straightened up to ease a kink in my back.

“You had no need to hide this from me, son; I envy you, that’s all, I wish I wasn’t too old to do it, myself ... this beats travelling about the country, selling goods as a salesman.  It knocks my dream of having a chicken farm all hollow, too....”

He drew in a deep breath of the good, sunny harbour air.  Sailors were up aloft, they were singing.  The cook was in his galley, singing too.  There were gulls glinting about in the sun.

“Of course you know I almost made West Point once ... had the appointment ... if it hadn’t been for a slight touch of rheumatism in the joints ...” he trailed off wistfully.

“We’ve never really got to know each other, Johnnie.”

I looked at him.  “No, we haven’t.”

“I’m going to start you out right.  Will the captain let you off for a while?”

“The cook’s my boss ... as far as my time is concerned.  I’m cabin boy.”

My father gave the cook a couple of big, black cigars.  I was allowed shore leave till four o’clock that afternoon....

“—­you need a little outfitting,” explained my father, as we walked along the dock to the street....

“I’ve saved up a couple of hundred dollars, which I drew out before I came over.”

“But, Father....”

“You need a lot of things.  I’m going to start you off right.  While you were up in the cabin getting ready to go ashore I had a talk with the cook....  I sort o’ left you in his charge—­”

“But I don’t want to be left in anyone’s charge.”

“—­found out from him just what you’d need and now we’re going to do a little shopping.”